Charmed By The Wolf. Kristal Hollis

been expecting you.” Cassie stood.

      Tristan’s phone buzzed. He quickly answered, “On my way,” then shoved it back into his pocket. “Gotta go.” He clasped Penelope’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “It’s been a pleasure, Nel.”

      “Nel?” First sweet cheeks, now Nel. Had he really forgotten her name already?

      Smiling, he leaned close, his lips brushing against her ear. “Like you said, Penelope is a mouthful—and a bit formal, considering you’ve seen me naked.”

       Chapter 2

      “Penelope?” Cassie stared at her curiously. “Are you all right?”

      “Um, yeah.”

      Tristan was no longer in the office, but Penelope’s body still registered his heat next to her.

      “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”

      “Tristan has that effect on women.” Cassie laughed softly.

      “Not on you?”

      “I’m very happily married and Tristan, well, he’s family.” Cassie waved to a chair in front of a simple but solid wooden desk.

      Penelope took her seat, swallowing her question as to Tristan’s marital status. She hadn’t seen a ring, but these days lack of one didn’t necessarily indicate the man was unattached, and asking her new boss personal questions about a stranger seemed unwise.

      Casually, Penelope glanced out the glass interior window of Cassie’s office and glimpsed Tristan nearing a side corridor. He turned, his gaze locking on hers. A current passed through her body, warm and exhilarating. He tipped his head and disappeared down the hall.

      Several seconds passed before she breathed again.

      “Please don’t get your hopes up.”

      Penelope snapped her attention back to Cassie. “Excuse me?”

      “Tristan is a great guy but a huge flirt. I don’t want you to be hurt or misled.”

      “I assure you, my heart is quite safe from his charms.” She wasn’t foolish enough to invest serious hope in a man out of her league.

      “Good.” Cassie withdrew several forms from her desk drawer and fastened them to a clipboard. “As we discussed on the phone, the resort is experimenting with new programs this summer. Originally, we planned to hire you as an assistant to the children’s arts-and-craft teacher. However—” An apprehensive grimace replaced Cassie’s smile.

      “You’ve decided not to hire me?” Penelope swallowed her disappointment.

      “Oh, we want you to work for us.” A loose curl bounced free from the silver clip in Cassie’s hair. “But we do have a slight change. The instructor you were going to assist left unexpectedly. Instead of assisting, you’re now in charge of the program.”

      Excitement and fear wrestled in the pit of Penelope’s stomach. “Um, what do you mean by in charge?”

      “You will plan the daily activities and teach the workshops.”

      “I’m not an art teacher, per se.”

      “According to your résumé, you are an elementary school teacher, and in our phone interview you mentioned that you are an artist.”

      “I said I like to paint.” Having never shown her work to anyone, Penelope wasn’t sure she could claim to be an artist. “I may not have the right skill set, since I’ve never taught an art class.”

      “I have faith in you,” Cassie said. “We aren’t asking you to turn these kids into prodigies. Simply help them have fun creating handmade souvenirs.”

      “Is there a curriculum?”

      “Here’s what Linda had planned.” Cassie handed Penelope a three-ring binder.

      She flipped through the pages of activities, supplies needed and the link information to online how-to videos.

      “The hours are the same, seven-thirty to noon, Monday through Friday. And, instead of a suite inside the resort, we can offer you a cabin on the property. I thought you might like the extra space and solitude to paint in your spare time.”

      “I like how you think.”

      “Is that a yes?” Cassie rested her folded hands on her desk.

      “Yes.”

      “Fantastic!” Cassie picked up the clipboard. “I need your signature on these forms, then I’ll show you the activities room.”

      Penelope reviewed the documents and signed in the appropriate places. Handing the clipboard back, she knocked over the silver frame on Cassie’s desk. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She picked up the picture of a striking black wolf. “This is a great picture. Do you know the photographer who took it?”

      “I did.” Cassie reached for the framed photo and smiled lovingly at the picture before placing it back on her desk. “The Walker’s Run Cooperative, of which the resort is a subsidiary, runs a wolf sanctuary. That’s my husband’s wolf in the picture.”

      “Your husband owns a wolf?”

      “No one owns the wolves. Brice is his wolf’s handler. Co-op members are tasked with safeguarding the health and well-being of individual wolves.”

      “Is his wolf tame or did you use a telephoto lens?”

      “The Co-op wolves aren’t tame, but they aren’t dangerous, either. Unless you threaten their families.”

      “Could I go into the sanctuary to take some pictures? I’d love to expand my portfolio to include wildlife.” So what if she didn’t exactly have a professional portfolio. Never even considered one, since showing her work to anyone had been something she hadn’t dared.

      Only learning to paint after her parents’ deaths, Penelope had received art therapy as part of her own recovery. She fell in love with turning swipes of color into pictures and dreamed of being a professional artist. But Penelope’s aunt and uncle had convinced her of the impossibility of such a foolish notion when she was without a modicum of talent.

      “For the safety of the wolf pack, only Co-op members are allowed access.”

      “How does someone become a member?”

      “One is either born into the Co-op or marries into it.”

      “That exclusive, huh?”

      Cassie offered a sympathetic smile. “There are great scenic views in the area and your cabin is up the mountain near a river. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of inspiration.” She flipped through the signed papers. “Everything looks good, but I’ll need a copy of your identification.”

      As Cassie turned away to scan Penelope’s driver’s license and social security card on the printer behind her desk, Penelope used her phone to capture a snapshot of the wolf photo. If she couldn’t get into the sanctuary to photograph the animals herself, at least she could use the one in Cassie’s picture for inspiration.

      “I heard Tristan call you Nel. Would you prefer that on your name tag?”

      “Sure.” Why not? It would be easier for the kids to say and remember.

      “Welcome to the Walker’s Run Resort family, Nel.” Cassie returned the identification cards to Penelope. “I hope your time with us will be memorable.”

      Considering that, in her first few hours in the area, she’d met a naked man with the face and body of a Greek god, Walker’s Run already had the memorable part down pat.

      * * *

      “I wanted to be the first to tell you.” Behind the large mahogany desk, Gavin Walker